A Home for Henry
by DreamSpice
Summary: 10-year-old Henry is adopted by Killian Jones. Knowing his son needs closure, Killian is determined to find Emma Swan so Henry can let her go. Modern AU. Captain Swan.
1. The Lost Boy

**Important Author's Notes:** There's necessary alterations to backstories/experiences, which are mostly evident with Henry and his character. This is slow-burn Captain Swan, with some Snowing, but you won't see Emma for a few chapters. There's a tribute video made for this story - link is in my profile. _Note for those reading my other fic, there's also an explanation regarding it in my profile._

 **Caution:** this story deals with adoption/foster care, abandonment, alcoholism (not frequently), character death (no one who hasn't already died on the show at some point), and moments of unrestrained cuteness.

* * *

 **~ The Lost Boy ~**

The rumble of storm clouds were drowned by the sea of beeping traffic and raised voices flowing through Killian's window. The noise carried dread with it each morning he spent there, but was now a welcome tune. After weeks of pacing the rented city apartment, months of filling out paperwork, and years of forced patience – he finally received the call that they'd found him a child.

He'd barely remembered to speak, and collapsed onto the sunken couch immediately afterwards. Killian stayed there, listening to the city bustle beyond his glass window, trying to compose the strength needed to accept he was about to become a father. His emotions were at war, torn between excitement and fear, like a ship battling raging waves.

Being freed from delays endured over the years, constantly having to prove his suitability to raise a child on his own, did little to ensure his early arrival to the final meeting.

'Keys...' Killian turned on the spot, glaring at the paint-peeled room as if it could be accused of swallowing his belongings. 'Where's the bloody keys?'

Digging them out of couch cushions was a task made harder by his trembling hands. Killian paused, heart racing faster, in consideration if he was actually capable of driving in such a state. He wanted to laugh, cry, and scream, but there wasn't time for any of it. He'd been through far worse than a simple meeting with those who've made it a hobby to reject him, yet his nervousness remained.

He changed his shirt five times, forgot his wallet twice, conducted arguments in his head about what would be the fastest way to bond with a child, and demonstrated rare gratitude for slow traffic. He forced himself to focus on the meeting instead of the crippling fact he could still ruin everything. It was a habit he was yet break.

Looking up the tall building, Killian exhaled the longest breath his lungs would allow. Checking his pocket for the truck's keys, he berated himself under breath from cement curb to office door. His watch indicated he'd barely made it on time, and Killian hoped no one else could hear the heart pounding his ribcage. He willed his hands to still, afraid of being labelled drug-addict and sent back to the beginning of his agonising application process.

The dark-skinned, balding adoption agent in the office wasn't familiar, but greeted Killian with a warm smile.

'Killian Jones?' the man asked, offering his hand.

'Aye.' Killian shook hands, ignoring the dryness of his throat. 'I mean, yes. Yes,' he stuttered, fighting a grimace.

The loud city was blocked by dutiful windows, as Killian sat in the room's only other chair. It was the silence that almost caused surrender. The man behind the desk shuffled papers, humming every few pages, and sighed often. Killian was usually good at reading people, but the agent would no doubt destroy him in poker.

'This has been quite a process for you,' the agent finally said.

'Yes.' Killian grit his teeth.

Regina's repeated warning to keep comments to himself had ingrained itself in his brain. Killian's rough social skills and opinions where, in her words, rarely welcomed by any outsider who didn't know him well enough not take them personally. Regina said it as if believing Killian didn't mean every blunt word that left his mouth, and he spared himself the trouble of correcting her.

Pages turned, another hum, and the adoption agent looked up.

'Well, everything is in order,' the man said. 'You have impeccable references.'

Killian smiled. Mary and David worked through many nights to perfect every detail for him when his previous application progress fell through. Regina tossed him advice for hours throughout months spent preparing for this moment. She'd bullied extra help from others when needed, but Killian knew her heart was in the right place.

Shifting in the too-straight chair, Killian briefly wondered what merciless Hell Regina would raise upon the world if his application received yet another delay.

'You're aware of your rights and responsibilities,' the agent continued, checking the final paperwork. 'Let's talk about your son.'

Son.

That one word hit Killian with the force of a runaway carriage. He leaned forward, pushing aside his nerves in eagerness to learn about the boy who was to be his son. His yearning to be a father, and grow his family, was all that got Killian through his life's darkness when rum failed him. There were many times he'd nearly lost hope, but his family simply wouldn't allowed it. Killian knew he'd be nowhere and nothing without them.

'His name is Henry and he's 10-years-old.' The agent watched him closely. 'He was placed for adoption at birth.'

Killian nodded, inhaling. He'd never indicated preferences, thinking he'd be lucky to get any kid at all, but still his stomach dropped. Ten years in the foster system was not how a child should begin their life.

'There's one item I'd like to go over in detail,' the agent said. 'This is a closed adoption, which means you'll never be able to contact your child's birth parents. It's a complete information blackout. Parents' names, ethnicity, genealogical records – you won't have access to any of it.'

Killian nodded, remembering Regina's coaching. She'd thought of everything he'd need to conduct himself properly in that office, if only his nerves weren't just below the surface and muddling his concentration.

'I'm concerned with my son's future, not his past,' Killian said, straightening. He mentally cursed the chair pressed hard against his back.

There was bitter irony in his statement, considering how interested the agency were in his past. Even Regina, who had some experience with the process, believed it unreasonably excessive. The agency refused to proceed until he proved in triplicate that his past was behind him. Killian pretended for years that it was, denying nightmares of the crash or rare moments when he sold himself to rum.

Only David knew the truth, but that's how it'd always been.

'Well, then, congratulations!' the agent smiled, pressing a call button on his desk phone. 'You ready to meet your son?'

'Yes,' Killian gasped, instantly standing.

He wasn't ready; he was terrified. His heart danced in sync to the ticking swan clock on the wall, as Killian fixed his gaze on the door until it opened.

A woman entered, then stepped aside to reveal a brown-haired ten-year-old. Though mostly hidden under a thick jacket, the boy's clothes were in okay condition – a good sign, according to Mary's endless research.

'So, you're my dad?' The boy stood in front of him, green eyes travelling from Killian's boots to dark hair. 'I'm Henry.'

Killian smiled, swallowing to remind himself the adoption agent and social worker remained observant. He wanted to hug his new son and never let him go, but even without Regina he knew that would be too big a step so soon.

Collapsing in a heap of emotions wasn't going to help his case or dignity either.

'Nice to meet you, Henry,' Killian said, nodding.

Whatever happened next was a blur.

Killian signed paperwork and shook hands with Henry's social worker, Diane. Leaving with his son, Killian resisted glancing over his shoulder every few steps to check the boy was still there.

This was real.

Relief washed away anticipation and dread, paving room for new fears and insecurities. He had no idea what to say to the boy, and suddenly envied every parent who met their child as an infant yet to comprehend social exchanges.

They got in the brown truck, Henry holding a trash bag of belongings on his lap, and returned among familiar traffic. Slowing behind a red van, Killian risked a glance. Henry sat still, head turned to the window, watching a yellow car.

Was he supposed to say something to the boy or give him space?

Sighing, Killian returned his focus to the road and hoped fatherly-stuff would come naturally once they'd settled. In a single day, both his and Henry's lives have not only changed but merged. There was lots of adjustment ahead.

Silence stretched on yet again. Killian was actually pleased to see the apartment he'd spent weeks loathing.

'This...Is where you live?' Henry frowned, entering the large room.

'What?' Killian glanced at the crooked fridge and flickering overhead light, offended. 'Not at all, lad. We've a long drive home; we'll stay here tonight and head off in the morning.'

'Okay.' Henry nodded, looking at his harshly-worn shoes.

'Is that all you have?' Killian eyed the black trash bag.

'Don't need much.' The boy shrugged, keeping eyes low as he clutched the bag.

Killian understood; he'd arrived at Ruth Nolan's farm with even less. He doubted any parent could surpass Ruth's spirited kindness and infallible patience, but he intended to follow her example the best he was capable of.

His secret stash of rum and regrets would have to go.

'I uh...' Killian quickly invented an excuse. 'I almost forgot, there's things I need to pick up before the trip. Perhaps we can add to your belongings as well?'

'Really?' Henry lifted his chin. 'I'll work for it, of course. I can-'

'No, no – none of that.' Killian turned, leading them back downstairs and to the truck. 'Those days are over, Henry. You have a family and a home now. It's my job to make sure you have everything you need.'

Henry's smile was genuine, but he hardly said a word the rest of the afternoon.

They drove around the city, shopping for hours and discovering how tricky shopping really was. It wasn't as if Killian had never bought clothes before, though he did avoid the task where possible, but the children's clothing range opened his eyes to true horrors of the ordeal.

He tried to ignore price tags, but Henry insisted they check each one. Killian marvelled at a mother blindly picking a handful of clothes for her young daughter, while he had one of Henry's old shirts as an improvised size guide. The boy wasn't much help either, as most of his clothes were from donations.

Of all places, it was in the shoe store that Killian almost spiralled his final descent into madness.

~ H ~

Nightfall found the pair on the sunken apartment couch with pizza.

Killian was optimistic about fatherhood, while Henry expressed enthusiasm for his new hoodie by hiding his face in it like a stereotypical hoodlum. Full of cheesy crust and pepperoni, the boy jumped up to fill his new backpack with their purchases. He threw in new clothes and a handful of books, then dug through his soon-to-be-discarded trash bag for a stuffed toy that was probably many shades lighter when he first got it.

'That's filthy,' Killian frowned, halting the boy's intentions to pack it with his new stuff. 'We could have bought a-'

'No!' Henry tugged the neck of his hoodie, dropping the toy duck underneath. He held it there, out of sight, and hurried backwards. 'Don't take it!' Eyes widening, his chest heaved with panic.

'Whoa, whoa – hey, Henry...' Killian held up his hands, resisting the flush of guilt. 'My apologies, lad. I didn't realise its value. I won't take it, I promise.'

Henry fixed him with a stern stare, hugging his lumpy hoodie.

'It's in quite a state,' Killian tried again. 'What if I prepare a bath – clean it up a bit?'

Henry glanced at the coffee table between them as if looking for something to retaliate with.

Killian slowly stood and headed to the kitchen area. Pouring soap and warm water into the sink, he pretended not to notice his son sneaking beside him. Watching Henry scrub the duck clean, standing on a chair for better access, Killian mentally berated his own foolishness. He, of all people, should have known anything non-practical the boy held onto was obviously treasured.

His optimistic plunge into fatherhood began to drop rather rapidly like a stone finishing its skip across a lake.

'Does he have a name?' Killian asked.

'Swan,' Henry answered, topping the toy's yellow head with soapsuds. 'It's from my mother.'

Killian contemplated those words later that night.

The duck, dried with a pink hair-dryer Killian would deny existence of if David ever found out, remained squished under the boy's arm. Henry didn't let it out of sight or grip once. Climbing into bed, he snuggled Swan while watching Killian fold sheets up to his chin.

'Goodnight, son,' Killian said.

He'd waited a lifetime to say those words. Henry's response was a tiny smile, as the boy switched off the bedside lamp and tugged his sheets higher.

Half the apartment cloaked in shadows, Killian stretched across the couch with a heavy sight. He didn't back down from challenges and wasn't about to start now. Resting an arm over his eyes, Killian scoffed quietly to clear his throat choked with emotion. Tucking his son into bed for the first time had unravelled him.

Quickly sitting, Killian tossed aside the empty pizza box to locate his phone. He'd neglected to update his family on his extraordinary day. Even now, after all those years, it was a strange concept to accept he had a family who readily loved and supported him. With everything he put them through, from being an angry orphan to the dark times he'd only barely begun to crawl out of, still they remained. Regina had to, but Mary and David held no such obligation.

They were the role models his son could aspire to and needed in his life.

 **[Killian]** – _Got the call today. I have a son!_

[David] – _What?_

[David] - _I'm so happy for you mate! What's his name? How old?_

 **[Killian]** – _Will call you tomorrow before we leave._

 **[Killian]** \- _His name is Henry._

[David] – _I'll hold you to that. Congrats, man. Can't wait to meet him._

Killian leaned back, a smile on his face as he listened to screeching brakes and wailing sirens flowing through the open window. He had a son.

Henry was hidden under the sheets, revealing only a mop of brown hair. Killian ached to go to the roof and declare to the world that he finally had a child of his own. Unconvinced the boy was actually asleep, Killian couldn't even lock himself in the cramped bathroom to cry himself raw in relief and whatever else his tangle of emotions could be defined as.

He had no idea how to be a good dad – or a dad at all, in fact. But his first day as a father was already enough motivation to commit himself to overcoming his habits and the pain that plagued him since the accident. Sighing, rubbing hands over his face, Killian's optimism sunk into a watery grave. He could barely take care of himself and now he had Henry to consider. He could do it, Killian knew, or else he'd never have made it this far, but it was still a lot to take in.

His excitement from earlier was like adrenaline – a momentary boost to help him forget how terrified he was underneath.

* * *

Henry was quiet and distant during breakfast.

Killian had impatiently spent years reading every cheap parenting book he could get his hands on. He'd quizzed Regina, who had a young stepson she'd adopted three years ago, until he ran out of questions and she out of patience. Ten-year-old Henry sitting across from him at the rounded table made fatherhood more real and challenging than Killian ever braced himself for.

Henry gulped spoonfuls of soggy cereal, and Killian ducked into the hallway outside to call David.

It hardly rung once.

'Finally!' was the greeting he received.

'It's barely seven, mate.' Killian rolled his eyes. 'What did you-'

'What's Henry like?' David rushed. 'Tell me everything. How old is he?'

'Uh...' Killian moved further from the ajar door. 'He's ten. Likes books, from what I gather.'

'He's ten?' David paused. 'That's older than we hoped for.'

'I was fourteen when Ruth took me in,' Killian reminded him. 'Age doesn't matter. Henry's my son.'

The creaking door gave Henry away, and Killian smiled at the boy's hasty retreat.

'I didn't mean...' David sighed.

'I know.' Killian checked his pockets, frowning.

'Rough night?'

'Aye, barely slept a wink,' he said, traces of his grin remaining. 'But I'm fine. We've a long journey home.'

'We've prepared the farmhouse. You can stay as long as you need. We might be late home, but you know how to get in,' David said. 'I'm so happy for you, Killian. This is incredible! I can't believe it finally happened.'

He stared at his phone when David hung up.

His son was a miracle, but Killian's whirlwind of emotions had to be put to rest. He had a job to do – starting with driving all the way to Maine where they'd build their new life. David and Mary eagerly offered their spare rooms until Killian could get his own place sorted out, and he wanted to stabilise Henry's living situation as soon as possible.

'Ready to go?' Killian pat himself down for his keys and wallet.

The boy nodded, slipping on his new backpack. Swan was safely burrowed in the jacket Henry insisted on keeping and burying at the bottom of his bag. He stayed close to Killian's side when visiting the landlord, and quickly hopped into the truck to begin their journey home.

Passing cars and tall buildings, Killian didn't bother thinking of conversation topics to pass the time. He hadn't been in the city for a long time, preferring to avoid skeletons of memories it held. He took the longer route out, refusing to pass the park where he and Milah camped at a music festival or docks Liam helped him steal an overnight boat from.

No, his past was far from left behind.

'Can we stop for snacks?' Henry's curiosity broke his dad's dwelling as they left the city.

'Of course.' Killian chuckled. 'It's a road trip, lad. Snacks are required.'

'Absolutely.' The boy smiled, watching him drive.

Stopping at a gas station for fuel and snacks only reminded Killian he had no idea what his son liked. In effort to seem like he had everything under control, he bought as much variety as possible without risking a sugar-high. Regina would faint if she saw the pile, but luckily his life would be spared by removing every coloured wrapper before reaching Storybrooke.

He did, however, learn about Henry's love of playgrounds. It wasn't an odd interest for a child his age, but the boy earnestly requested they stop at every one. Killian, despite the detours added to their travel, obliged each time. There was something very reassuring about seeing his son run, climb, and swing like a regular ten-year-old boy.

'There's a great castle playground near home,' he said, as Henry crawled across the back of the truck to get his bag from under a tarp.

'What's this?' The boy held up a thick book.

'I forgot that was there.' Killian's eyebrows creased. 'It's been...Uh, a boy created a project to re-invent fairytales and put them together in a book. Your aunt and her class helped.'

'I love fairytales.' Henry flipped to a picture of the blue fairy. Sighing, he put it back and grabbed his hoodie.

'They won't mind you reading it,' Killian said, glancing at park trees swaying in the strong wind. 'Go ahead, lad.'

Grinning, Henry snatched the book. Caught off-guard by the boy's lunge to the ground, Killian instinctively raised his arms in case he had to catch him, but his son landed easily on two feet. Henry got into the passenger side of the truck, oblivious to Killian's three-second heart-attack.

'The boy was hardly in any danger,' Killian scolded himself, fishing in his pockets for keys.

'What's your favourite fairytale?' Henry asked, as they drove late into the afternoon. He held the storybook open on his lap, pausing often to look at his dad with renewed interest.

'Favourite fairytale?' Killian frowned, thinking. 'Snow White, I'd say.'

'Mine's The Ugly Duckling.' Henry looked down. 'Or Peter Pan.'

Killian shuddered at the mention of Peter Pan. He'd almost lost his hand in the crash; thoughts of Captain Hook haunted him with that tragic night.

'Where're we going?' Henry wondered. 'What's your house like?'

'A town called Storybrooke. We'll be passing the sign any moment now,' Killian said, nerves building and memories relentless. 'Our home is a small farm close to town. Lots of open space.'

'There it is!' Henry pointed.

Eyes wide and wary, the boy shrank against his seat and fell silent. The new, green "Welcome to Storybrooke" sign blurred in and out of view as the truck passed by.

The real journey ahead for Killian and Henry had only just begun.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** Review? Your feedback means a lot to me and will help the story, but regardless thank you so much for reading and I hope you're enjoying it so far.

Please also let me know your thoughts on the style I chose for text messaging. It's something that occurs often enough that I needed a (hopefully) natural/realistic way of displaying it. Additionally, I'm curious if anyone knows why Snow White might be Killian's favourite fairytale.


	2. Fairest Godmother

_I was overwhelmed by the support for this fic, so thank you. As a treat, I wanted to get this chapter up early for you all - but life intervened and here we are. Thank you if you're still reading; it means a lot. Without further ado, here's the next chapter!_

* * *

 **~ Fairest Godmother ~**

Henry peered at stores and hedges as they drove through Storybrooke, keeping first impressions to himself. Tension shifted from Killian's muscles as they reached the grassy driveway lined with wide trees. Parking with the farmhouse not quite in view, Killian glanced at wooden sheds of hay and machinery.

The feeling of coming home remained absent.

'Here we are: Nolan Farm. Your aunt and uncle's place.' Killian forced a smile for Henry, but his son's attention didn't shift. 'We'll stay here a while, until our house has proper furnishing. You'll still have your own room.'

'My own room?' Henry turned quickly, eyebrows raising. 'Awesome.'

Killian briefly explained no one was home yet, and encouraged the boy to have a look around. Henry jumped out of the truck and ran to the front gate, pausing once to check Killian intended to follow.

'Go ahead, lad.' Killian gestured. 'Key's under a ridiculous windmill figurine.'

Leaving the boy to his exploration of the farmhouse, Killian exhaled a long breath and glanced around.

When David and Killian finally decided to sell Ruth's farm, it had taken months for David to settle on a new place. With Ruth gone, David and Mary Margaret moved on with their lives – gradually, but genuinely. They bought the farmhouse and tended to the land, creating their fresh start from hard work and dedication.

Killian took the opposite path. Those teenage years spent on Ruth's farm were the happiest of his life – mornings of chasing sheep through cornfields with David and Liam, or afternoons bottling jams and sauces while Ruth told them adventurous stories filled with hope. When all that stripped away, taking both Liam and Milah with it, Killian was once again left behind to pick up the pieces of what remained.

His own farm was much smaller, which Killian personally liked about it, but it wasn't nearly as organised as Nolan Farm. David and Mary managed it on their own, while each also having jobs in town that they were dedicated to. Killian's visits were rarely unhappy there, but neither was it a welcomed sight. Nolan Farm was yet another reminder that David, as Liam had been before him, set the bar pretty damn high.

But today was about Henry.

The boy carried a shimmer of hope that Killian's own fresh start was within reach. He intended to give it his best shot. Killian texted David to let him know they'd arrived, and headed into the farmhouse to see where his son had run off to. He found the boy in the kitchen, staring at a jug in the fridge as if surprised the old-fashioned house had electricity and running water.

'What do you think?'

'It's okay.' Henry shrugged, glancing at a wedding photo above the mantel. 'Is that them?'

'Aye.' Killian nodded, intending to properly introduced them in person. 'They're excited to meet you.'

To pass time, Killian took Henry on a tour around the house and farmland. It was a big place, but still only so much a ten-year-old boy would be interested in. After seeing the stables and sheep, Killian tried to prompt conversation from his son but Henry's replies remained short and reserved. He didn't push, knowing the boy needed time to get used to his new life and family.

Their last stop on the Nolan Farm tour was the cleanest garage in Storybrooke, which had gained new storage overnight. They never knew what age or gender his child was going to be, so neither of Killian's spare bedrooms were touched.

Mary, unable to sit idle in anticipation for another child to adore and spoil, began a tradition that for every new progress of the application they'd buy something for the child's room. It started simple, with a moon lamp and glow-in-dark stars for the ceiling. Then Regina splurged on a beautifully-carved oak wardrobe, and the collection grew from there. Killian often joked they were blooming Marco's business, but was equally guilty of expensive purchases for his future child's room.

However, he kept a few smaller items to himself; hidden away as carefully as his hopeful optimism.

'What's this stuff for?' Henry asked, passing between a desk and set of drawers.

'You.' Killian smiled. 'When we've settled at home, these will be in your bedroom. '

'All of this?' Henry's green eyes widened. 'For me? I don't understand – what for?'

Killian took a moment to decide how he'd address something he'd been wondering the entire drive to Maine.

'I don't know what sort of places you've stayed at, or your treatment there, for the past number of years, Henry,' Killian said gently, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. 'I do hope one day you'll be comfortable enough to share those experiences with me, but I want to you know everything's different now. You deserve a family who loves you. Part of having a home comes with your own room and belongings.'

'Just like that?' the boy asked quietly, staring at his new shoes.

'Aye.' Killian glanced at his phone, alerted to a text from Regina. 'Just like that.'

~ H ~

'What do I say to them?' Henry fidgeted, partially concealed behind Killian as they watched the car approach. 'Wait. Are they cops?'

'Your uncle helps Sheriff Graham on patrol sometimes.' Killian winced at Mary's scarily-wide grin. 'Just be yourself. Say hello.'

'Hello!' Mary waved enthusiastically, approaching the pair. 'Oh, my God...I can't believe it. I'm so happy for you!' She grinned, hugging Killian tightly.

'Let him breathe,' David joked, eyes falling to Henry. 'Hi there, you must be my new nephew?'

'Hello.' The boy bravely stepped forward. 'I'm Henry.'

'It's lovely to meet you, Henry.' Mary beamed at him.

Killian admired her restraint, knowing how tempting it was to hug the boy seconds after meeting him. He returned the truck keys to David, and placed both hands on Henry's shoulders as show of support.

'Henry, it's my honour to introduce you to your Uncle David and Aunt Mary,' he said. 'Your Aunt Regina will also be joining us later. She also has a young son, Roland.'

'Roland was also adopted,' Mary said quickly.

'Okay.' Henry's gaze dropped to his shoes, blushing. 'Er – nice to meet you.'

'How about we go inside?' David suggested. 'I'm starving.'

'Aye.' Killian nudged Henry back to the house. 'We've a late dinner to prepare.'

Henry went ahead to stand by his bag in the living room, while David headed to the kitchen pantry.

'What do I say to him?' Mary whispered eagerly, grabbing Killian's forearm to halt him by the door.

'You're a teacher,' Killian said, amused.

'That's different,' She frowned, keeping her voice low. 'David didn't tell me it finally happened until five minutes before we got here. I wasn't prepared.'

Killian glanced at David, who badly feigned deafness. Keeping the confirmed adoption from Mary until the last minute was a smart move, as she'd have easily left work for the day and built herself into a state of impatient but excited frenzy all afternoon.

'He looks like you,' Mary said, smiling at Henry. 'You have a son, Killian. How does that feel?'

'There are no words.' Killian exhaled.

He approached the lad, indicating to the storybook on the sofa. Henry followed his gaze and nodded.

'Um...' Clutching the book to his chest, Henry nervously approached the kitchen. 'Mar-I mean, Aunt Mary?'

'Yes?' She quickly blinked away forming tears.

'I found this.' Henry offered the storybook. 'My dad said it's okay if I read it. I just wanted to say it's awesome.'

'Oh.' Mary, struggling to keep her expression unchanged for Henry's sake, lifted sad eyes to Killian. 'I haven't seen this since...Well, I'm glad you like it.'

'You're in the book, aren't you?' Henry asked. 'As Snow White?'

'Yes.' Mary chuckled. 'August has quite the imagination.'

As conversation dwindled with Henry's energy to remain friendly and social, the adults were at loss of how to proceed. The boy didn't want to help David in the kitchen or continue storybook discussion with Mary. In fact, the only thing Henry retained any interest in was the stack of Disney movies neatly alphabetised in a cabinet beside the TV. He didn't ask about them, or touch any living room furniture, but often met Killian's gaze with silent hopefulness.

'Go ahead, lad.' Killian smiled. 'Any movie you'd like.'

Grinning, Henry occupied himself with choosing and watching Aladdin while dinner was prepared. With the boy settled on the living room floor, glancing over his shoulder now and again, Killian joined David and Mary in the kitchen.

'It's surreal,' Killian said, keeping his voice low as he peeled potatoes. 'All that waiting, frustration, rejection...And there he is. My son.'

'What's he like?' Mary wondered. 'What did they say?'

'I've only known him a day.' He tossed a washed potato to David. 'The agent said he was put up for adoption at birth. He's been in foster care ever since.'

'Ten years.' David sighed. 'That's rough.'

'But he's here now.' Mary nodded, always the optimist. 'He's home. He's going to be so happy – you both will. I know it.'

'I hope so.' Killian watched Henry bob his head in tune with the music. Real happy endings weren't nearly as achievable as Disney envisioned.

Mary's enthusiasm didn't falter. She sat across Henry during dinner, asking him about favourite books and animals, trying to bond with her new nephew. Killian, tired from the long drive and emotional few days, didn't join her efforts. Henry didn't seem to mind Mary's carefully-chosen questions, but his responses remained short or in the form of polite shrugs.

Her efforts continued into the night, taking the lead in setting up a bed for Henry in one of the guest rooms. David sulked in the kitchen, tidying up after dinner as punishment for not telling his wife about Henry the second he knew, and Killian lingered in the hallway waiting to evict his sister-in-law to say goodnight to his son.

'You know what?' Mary said, handing the storybook to Henry. 'I think you should have this. It was meant to be read, and I know August would be pleased.'

'Really?' Henry's eyes lit up with emotion. 'Thank you, Aunt Mary!' He grinned.

'You're very welcome.' She placed a hand on his shoulder. 'Permission to hug?'

Henry leaned to her, wrapping his arms tightly but withdrawing quickly. Killian, lingering by the doorway, scolding the jealousy formed in his stomach. Mary wiped a tear, absolutely thrilled, and pat his arm as she left the room.

'Ready for bed?' Killian lifted blankets for Henry to crawl under.

The boy grabbed his duck from the bag under his bed. Killian tucked his son in and knew it would be a long time before it felt normal. Jealously washed away when Henry raised his arms, expectant to give his dad a quick hug too.

'Goodnight, son.' Killian kissed the boy's forehead, unable to resist.

Henry nodded, expression softening. Killian switched off the light and left the door partially ajar, heading downstairs to endure Mary's silent-as-possible giddiness that their family was finally complete.

* * *

'So...How many Aunts are there?' Henry frowned over breakfast.

Mary paused getting ready for work, counting off fingers. 'Let's see, there's me. And Regina. And Zelena, Belle...'

'Let's not get ahead of ourselves,' Killian walked in, sitting across the pancake-shovelling boy. 'Henry, David's my brother so he's directly your uncle. Mary Margaret is his wife, making her your aunt. Regina is her step-sister, also your aunt, but you don't have to call her that if you don't want to. Same for her sister, Zelena. Belle is a close friend, but you've no obligation to call her anything.'

'She is family, though,' Mary said.

'Aye, but we needn't overwhelm the boy.' Killian frowned at her. 'Give the lad time to adjust.'

'I'm okay,' Henry said between bites. 'Just don't want to get it wrong.'

'Oh, no – don't worry. Call them whatever you're comfortable with.' Mary nodded, grabbing toast. 'I wish I could stay, but I better get to work. I'll see you later, Henry.'

The boy waved, eyes barely leaving his plate. Killian knew David's pancakes were to die for, but felt uneasy watching his son eat as if it was the boy's first meal in days.

'Where'd Uncle David go?' Henry asked, pushing his plate away.

'Farm chores.' Killian sipped his tea.

Hearing approaching tyres crunch gravel outside, Henry tensed and rushed to the nearest window.

'Who's that?'

'Your Aunt Regina.' Killian watched the woman get out, dusting off her skirt and fixing hair.

'Oh.' Henry exhaled. 'I have to say hello again?'

'Aye.'

'Good morning,' Regina said, not bothering to knock.

Killian raised an eyebrow at her friendly greeting, then stepped aside to reveal his son.

'Hello, Aunt Regina,' the boy said. 'I'm Henry.'

'Henry?' she gently uttered his name, eyes hastily meeting Killian's. 'His name is Henry?'

'Yeah.' The boy frowned. 'So?'

'My father...' Regina smiled softly, taking in the boy's appearance. 'His name was Henry too. He'd have loved to meet you.'

She shook her head in disbelief, then gave Killian a hug of congratulations. Regina was reserved, but he knew she was just as happy for him as Mary and David.

'No Roland?' Killian asked her, as Henry stared at his shoes.

'He has a dentist appointment. This was very short notice,' she said, indicating to Henry. 'Nevertheless...It's wonderful to meet you, Henry.'

'Thanks,' the boy mumbled.

'Henry...' Killian braced himself, unsure how the boy or Regina were about to receive his announcement. 'Regina is more than just your aunt. She's also your legal Godmother.'

'What?' Regina gasped.

'I don't want her to be.' Henry frowned, green eyes glaring at Killian. 'I have a mother.'

'A Godmother isn't-' Killian winced.

'No!' Henry shouted, storming up the stairs.

'He has a mother?' Regina raised an accusing eyebrow.

'He means his birth mother.' Killian sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. 'I messed up. I should've-'

'No.' Regina shook her head. 'No, this wasn't you. The boy's clearly confused, but he'll adjust. It's a lot to take in.'

'But...You'll be his Godmother?'

'Of course.' She smiled warmly. 'And you're sure? Not Mary Margaret or Belle? I hardly thought you'd choose Zelena, but...'

Killian nodded, but didn't explain. Regina was the only person in their family who actually had experience raising a child, yet his decision stemmed from a place of darkness in their past that no one else understood. Their bond was complicated and had been dragged through the mud more often than not, but Regina was the right choice. He knew it in his heart.

'What should I...?' He glanced anxiously at the stairs.

'Give him time.' Regina nods. 'We'll try again over dinner. I should get back to the Mayor's office. Lots of whining citizens.' Her hug was short and she avoided his gaze. Regina never said it and Killian didn't ask, but her being Henry's Godmother meant a great deal to her.

'Everything okay?' David wondered, joining his side to watch her drive away.

'Ask me again in eight years.' Killian sighed.

~ H ~

Henry's manners returned after lunch, when Killian explained what a Godmother was. Regina texted him advice on how to handle the conversation. He wasn't convinced he'd done a good job being honest and direct about the subject, but Henry listened and decided Regina was no longer a threat.

'The Rabbit Hole?' Henry asked, wandering ahead of David and Killian on their tour of Storybrooke. 'Like Alice in Wonderland?'

'Yeah, I guess so,' David said.

Killian stayed quiet, still considering his son's reaction to being told he had a Godmother. Henry brought Swan with him, clutching the yellow duck as they walked through town. He wasn't worried, but something about it bothered Killian in a way he couldn't define – like his instincts were trying to tell him he needed to pay attention.

'Yeah, she owns that too,' David was saying when Killian tuned back into the conversation, noticing his son becoming distant as the boy's interest drifted. 'Regina owns a lot places in town. People have taken to calling her Queen of the Land.'

'A title she's proud of,' Killian adds.

'And that's your school.' David indicated to the red-brick building. 'Or it will be, once your aunt Mary arranges everything. She'll be your teacher too.'

'Okay.' Henry fidgeted, dragging feet as he followed them along another path.

'I do believe we're boring the lad, Dave.' Killian smirked.

'Yeah.' David sighed. 'I'm afraid after the ice cream store, nothing else matters.'

'It's true.' Henry nodded.

Killian glanced across the street, eyes narrowing at the "Mr Gold's Pawnshop" sign he wished Belle would take down. It was a glittering reminder of why he preferred secluding himself on his farm with rum, as opposed to having any sort of social life within the town.

'There is one place left,' Killian considered, sharing a look with David. 'Home.'

David didn't remind him the small farm wasn't ready. He understood, and led the way back to the truck. Henry stayed quiet, but paid close attention to where they were going. The wooden posts in the back of the truck clattered together as they travelled the overgrown driveway of the small farm.

'This Jones Farm?' Henry assumed.

'I...' Killian swallowed. 'Aye. I suppose it is.'

They got out, and Henry ran to examine the house. It was a pale blue and less old-fashioned than the Nolan farmhouse. Killian liked the simplicity of his house, though he'd had no say in it – Regina had taken over to get it in good shape for home checks and social worker visits.

'Where's the key?' David called from the porch. 'It's a whale, right?'

'A ship!' Killian rolled his eyes. 'Every time, mate – it's a bloody ship,' he muttered.

There weren't any fences or trees near the house, just a wooden tool shed further off to the side. The grass was long, and greener than a Neverland fairy, but not so unruly he had to struggle through to reach the steps. Standing on the porch, hearing David directing Henry to rooms inside the house, Killian relaxed his shoulders in appreciation for his home.

It was poorly-kept and not his first choice of dwelling, especially considering Milah would have hated the small farm, but it was cast in new light now. His place of dark solitude and rum-inducted sleepless nights was changed to a work-in-progress home for his son to grow up in.

He brought Henry there for the boy's benefit, wanting to show him there's a home waiting for them, but Killian found it therapeutic as well. Suddenly, he was filled with ideas of projects they could do together as father and son – like raising chickens or building birdhouses.

'You planning on joining us or should we leave you to watching grass grow?' David peered outside, a teasing smirk on his face. 'Who knows, maybe you'll be inspired to finally mow around here?'

Killian glared at his brother and headed inside to find Henry. His son was upstairs, sitting in the middle of one of the spare rooms he'd chosen as his own. Killian wanted to ask Henry his opinion, but let the boy have his moment.

'It's a big window, isn't it, Swan?' Henry hugged his duck tight. 'We'll have our own bed, desk, and all that stuff. It might be nice, staying here for a while.'

Killian went downstairs, glancing through the front doorway to David being nosey in his tool shed, and rested palms on the kitchen island. Hanging his head, Killian reminded himself he could do this. He'd get the house properly set up and they could move in – this is where home was. Nothing about that was a lie, and with Henry there it finally felt like the home Regina hoped it would become for him, but in the back of his mind something still felt a little wrong.

No, not wrong just...Missing. He had everything he needed to be happy, but Killian was not optimistic. He had a home, a loving family, a son of his own like he'd always wanted, and yet there was one element absent from his new life.

'Swan,' he uttered, frowning.

Why was the duck named after a different bird? How did the boy have it from his mother if he was given up as soon as he was born? Killian pushed away from the counter, irritated that his mind was choosing to focus on a silly stuffed toy of all things – and yet, Henry's reaction to Regina being his Godmother...It was important.

'The yard needs a miracle,' David said, entering. 'You okay, mate?'

'I'm fine,' Killian dismissed concern. 'We've a lot of work ahead. Shall we get started?'

* * *

 _Review?_


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